"Well, Rachel, have you no congratulations to offer?" asked the cooper
of his sister, who, in subdued sorrow, was eating as if it gave her no
pleasure, but was rather a self-imposed penance.

"I don't see anything so very fortunate in being engaged as a porter,"
said Rachel, lugubriously. "I heard of a porter once who had a great box
fall upon him and kill him instantly; and I was reading in the
_Sun_ yesterday of another out West somewhere who committed
suicide."

The cooper laughed.

"So, Rachel, you conclude that one or the other of these calamities is
the inevitable lot of all who are engaged in this business?"

"You may laugh now, but it is always well to be prepared for the worst,"
said Rachel, oracularly.

"But it isn't well to be always looking for it, Rachel."

"It'll come whether you look for it or not," retorted his sister,
sententiously.

"Then suppose we waste no time thinking about it, since, according to
your admission, it's sure to come either way."

Rachel did not deign a reply, but continued to eat in serene melancholy.

"Won't you have another piece of pudding, Timothy?" asked his wife.